Ice Cold Illusions
by darksupernatural
Summary: Ice." Dean said. Sam checked the weather on his cell phone."Man this isn't gonna get any better. Some happy birthday huh?" Dean's mouth just tightened slightly as he stared through the blurry windshield.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So a good friend at work has a birthday coming up and when I asked her what she wanted, she came up with the idea for a story. I wrote it and gave it to her. She loves it and I hope you all do too.**

**By the way, This is also a Happy Birthday to one of our favorite hunters...Dean Winchester! Too bad it turns out crappy for him.  
**

_**Ice Cold Illusions**_

_**Chapter 1**_

The two lane highway narrowed slightly as it approached the mountain range and headed into sharper curves. Dean slowed into the first of the curvy foothills as the soft strains of Led Zeppelin's _Kashmir _began to filter through the speakers. Deep snow lined the edges of the road, mid winter snows having been piled on the shoulder by plow trucks.

Sam's head rested between the seat back and the passenger window, an odd angle for anyone else, but Dean knew he was completely at peace. His breath softly fogged the glass and his head shifted, hair brushing the moisture away in feathery scuffs. Wind slid through the barren trees and rain speckled the windshield, causing little spots of moisture to gather on the inside of the glass. Dean turned up the heater a notch from low to make the little dots give up their attempt at blocking his view of the road. _Kashmir_ bled into _Bad Company_ and Dean went higher into the hills, the car heading deeper into the mountains. The sky darkened and rain began to fall harder, sticking to the car as it quickly froze. The solidifying water clung to the antenna, coating the metal wire and thickening it. The windshield began to blur, Dean quickly turning the heater to high defrost, and turning the windshield wipers up. The rubber blade of the wipers jumped and skipped over the accumulating ice with a harsh grating sound, and the Impala fishtailed around a curve, the road glossy beneath the headlights that were unfocused by the coating of ice. Sam's head tapped off the window and it startled him out of his slumber.

"Dean?" He croaked.

"Ice." Dean said, leaning slightly forward to try to clear his view of the road. The youngest Winchester looked out through the blurred glass, seeing the twin beams of light reflecting off the obsidian surface of the road. "Next town's 'bout fifteen miles. We'll just take our time and call Stevens Pass our home 'til they get the roads cleaned up."

Sam pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked the weather, quickly seeing the low double digit temperatures. He updated the information and saw that it had dropped two degrees in the time it took the weather to reload. "Dean, this isn't gonna get better anytime soon. Some happy birthday, huh?" Sam said, watching the windshield wipers stall out as they became glazed over with a thickening layer of ice. Dean's mouth just tightened briefly and he leaned further forward, trying to see the road through the shimmer of his blurred headlights.

"DEAN!" Sam barked, bracing against the dash board as the car went into a spin. His shoulder popped painfully and his arm buckled, throwing him into the passenger window. His head cracked off the glass and his world went black.

The Impala slammed into the hard snow bank packed against the high shoulder of the road, the front end of the car buckling as the axle was shoved backwards by the blow. The big black car bunny hopped the hard packed snow and plummeted down over the bank, tail lights disappearing behind the bank as the undercarriage skimmed the surface, sending a spray of snow up over the gleaming, ice covered black paint. The hood bowed in the center as the black car came to rest nearly on her nose, against a tree. The grille folded in half around the coarse bark of the Redwood, headlights exploding as they were ripped out of their sockets. Steam bloomed from beneath the hood as the V8 grunted and fell silent, the ticking of the rapidly cooling engine and the shudder and snap of ice caked tree limbs the only sounds in the still night. The freezing rain continued to fall.

***

"Unh." Dean groaned as he pushed himself up off the steering wheel. His ribs shrieked loudly and he gasped for breath, pushing back against the seat. His hands clenched on the wheel as he locked his elbows to keep himself back against the seat. Blood leaked down his forehead and into his right eye, burning and blurring his vision. He swiped a hand against it, smearing it over his eyelid and down his cheek. His head rolled as he fought to stay conscious. Finally blinking away still seeping blood he focused on the seat next to him when he felt a cold chill settle over him. Blood smeared the window glass, forming a crimson spider web where it followed cracks in the tempered material. The source of the blood lay against the dashboard, Sam's head, turned away from Dean. The youngest Winchester's body was crumpled in the foot well, legs folded painfully beneath him.

"S-Sam?" Dean cried, reaching for his brother and groaning as his fear for his brother made him forget his own precarious position and his ribs smacked off the steering wheel again. He pushed up against the wheel one handed and reached again for Sam, feeling for a pulse. He refused to breathe, moving his fingers to another point when he felt nothing. "C'mon." Dean finally released a harsh sigh when he felt the thump beneath Sam's skin. Shivers racked Sam's frame and Dean's hand felt the chill to his flesh. Dean felt his own harsh shake course through his frame as he tried to gauge how badly Sam was injured. He felt blood slowly cooling on the side of Sam's neck as he ran a gentle hand over the bones to make sure nothing was broken.

Dean stiffened his legs and used them to hold himself back away from the wheel. He reached for Sam, groaning as the added weight of his brother pulled at his abused ribs. He finally got Sam's head back away from the dash. It lolled, resting against the bottom of the seat. "Sammy. C'mon k-kid. W-wake up." Sam's eyes moved beneath their lids, but didn't open. Dean relaxed against the wheel, weakness and chills sapping his strength. The ice caked the silent car, so deep and covered with crystallized snow that all he could make out was the blurred lines of a buckled hood and the brown of a large tree in front of him. The cold air again ghosted over him and he turned his head to see where it was coming from, blinking rapidly as flakes of snow blew through the vents and into his eyes, the air stinging his cuts and burning his lungs. He closed off the vents and reached into his pocket, chilled fingers pulling out and nearly dropping his cell phone. His stinging eyes blurred as the movement jarred his painful ribs. He blindly pushed a button and lifted the phone to his ear. All he heard was the fast _beepbeepbeep_ signifying no service.

"Sonuvabitch." He muttered reaching across again to where Sam's phone usually rested. He found nothing in Sam's jacket pocket, memories of Sam having it in his hand just prior to the wreck slamming home in his mind. Dean's eyes scanned the seat and visible floorboard area futilely.

"'K Sammy. 'M gonna get us outta here and up to the road. You're gonna be alright. We're gonna be fine." Dean braced himself with his legs again and reached for the door handle, unlatching it and trying to open the big door. It refused at first, then with the crackling sound of ice, opened just a crack, snow filling the gap before it stopped solid against the hard packed white mass that the car was over half buried in. Dean pushed harder, trying to get the door open. He felt a rib shift and he gasped, his groan muffled by the sound of the door falling shut as far as it could, snow packed in the latch and seal, leaving cold air filter in through the small gap with a whistle. Dean's shivering intensified, his hands quickly turning a rosy red, and beginning to sting with cold.

Dean brushed Sam's hair back. "I promise I'm gonna get you help. Jus' gotta get the hell outta this car." He rolled down the window after the glass separated from the ice with a crack. The glass came down, leaving a thick coating of ice looking like the window never moved. Dean growled in annoyance and slammed his elbow into the slick, cold surface. Once. Twice. Again with a roar as it finally shattered out, stinging cold air and freezing rain slicking down his leather clad arm as his momentum carried it through the open window.

Sam's shivering increased, teeth chattering, and his mouth pinched at the corners. He moaned.

"Sam?" Getting no response, he checked his brother's pulse finding his skin getting colder and his pulse too rapid. "I gotta get help." He brushed Sam's hair away from the injury. "You hang the hell on, ya hear m-me?"

Dean shifted, stifling a groan as he reached through the open window and gripped the ice slick roof of the car, pulling himself painfully slowly up on to the top of the door panel. His hand slipped and he landed against the door pillar, his jaw taking the brunt of the blow, enough to crack his teeth together and stun him. He gripped again, his rapidly numbing fingers melting the ice slightly and making it slick until his fingers began to stick to the surface. His feet finally came free of the window and he lowered them to the icy snow, his boots sliding until he braced himself against the side of the buried car. He moved slowly, leaning against the back door to remain upright, his boots shifting on top of the glossy surface and barely leaving a track. He pulled on the ice covered door latch, trying to get the door open with numb, red fingers. He stuck his hand in the small gap and slammed the door backwards into the snow until he managed to work a gap big enough to reach his arm through to wind up the window, leaving his brother with as much heat as possible in the cold car and dropping temperatures that surrounded them. The car groaned as the repeated impacts moved it against the tree, shearing rough bark from the tree and making limbs high above shudder beneath the ice.

Dean turned away from the car, shivering, an arm wrapped tightly around his throbbing ribs, the other the only thing keeping him upright as his boots continued to slide with every harsh tremor that wracked his frame. He pulled his jacket closer, the leather squeaking in the cold, and curled his hands into the sleeves as he took a step away from the car.

The hard coated snow glistened in the darkness and he felt the steadily falling freezing rain clinging to his eye lashes and coating his stubble. He headed around the back of the car, feet slipping out from under him, and he landed hard on his stomach, icy water seeping through his jeans.

"Ungh." he ground out as the shook of the fall jarred his ribs and stole his breath. He pushed himself upright, pain bringing a warm lethargy that wasn't unwelcome. He slid again as soon as he made it to his feet, but managed to stay upright, bracing himself against the trunk of the car, the tail lights level with his head. "Damn it! It's too icy to lug him around."

As Dean fought to clear his stinging eyes, a cold wind picked up, blowing gritty snow at him like sand as it began to fall from the night sky. The tree the car rested against shuddered, ice laden branches clacking off one another. He dug in his feet hard, kicking at the snow along the path the Impala had taken over the embankment. The ice had been broken by the weight of his baby, and although it had glossed over, it wasn't as thick and smooth as the surrounding surfaces.

Finally making it up onto the road, the wind now gusting and driving the falling sleet into his flesh like frigid bullets, Dean fought to stay standing as the gale tore into him. The limbs of the big redwood shuddered and clacked, leaving Dean to shield himself as one came down.

**A/N: Please leave a review! Let me know you liked this. Who knows, It might keep me posting quicker.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm blown away by the response this is getting. It's so great to see new names along with the old and cherished ones. Thanks to all the people reading this for the wonderful response. And to all the anonymous reviewers, your comments are much appreciated. I wish I could thank you in person but this will have to do. Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy it and will continue to let me know you are! I forgot to mention too, that I did cover art for this one. It's my avatar if you want to pop over and take a look when you're done reading. Ask the girls in the Single Shots Group, I begged for a decent pic of the Impala's back end! I'd have used my own car but she's blue! And safely in the garage for the winter!  
**

_**Chapter 2**_

Sam pushed his door open, the squeak of the hinges tearing into his brain. He caught himself and hauled his aching body out of the foot well of the passenger side of the Impala and into the snow and falling sleet. Cold seeped into his jeans and jarred deeper numbness into his cramped legs. He zipped his Carhartt with cold fingers, pulling the hood up. He winced when the hood rubbed over the split in his flesh at his temple. Sam shivered violently, his head throbbing in time with his fluttering heart. He turned back to the car, gasping when he saw the glossy metal mostly covered by snow and ice, the hood buckled against the rough bark of a tree as wide as the space between the headlights.

"Oh god." He said, the words stammered as his teeth chattered. His feet slid as he rushed back to the car, peering through the open door as snow swirled against the black leather. The driver's seat was empty and fear made Sam's head spin, nearly sending him to his knees. "Dean!" Sam cried out, his voice rough, whipped away from him by the wind. Sam spun a circle, looking at the seemingly endless white surface that surrounded him. "DEEAAANNNN!" Sam moved around the car, checking frantically beneath the rough snow, moving anything he could move that looked like it might have a brother sized lump beneath it. He prayed that Dean had not been injured, laying somewhere outside the car, or buried hopelessly beneath the snow and ice. The sky was lightening, red streaks peaking above the horizon, shining though the trees when Sam finally stood up from the last of the large drifts.

Sam winced and shoved red, stinging hands in his pockets, his nails bleeding into the lining of his jacket. He moved away from the car, walking along the base of the ditch, his feet sliding on ice and sending him sprawling. The back of his head cracked off the surface and his vision grayed around the edges as he lay in the snow. He curled in on himself as the cold seeped into his bones. "Suck it up Winchester." He breathed.

Sam pushed himself up on his elbow, groaning as his head and stomach protested the change in altitude. He staggered finally to his feet, hugging his arms to his chest, relieved that it seemed to be less slippery, the snow having drifted and lining the bottom of the ditch. He made his way to a shallow area, climbing up over the guide rail that was partially exposed to the cold. The galvanized metal was covered in a jewel like encrusting of icicles and frost. Sam turned back to the ditch, just seeing the tail lights and his door, the rest obscured with a mass of white.

"DEAN!" Sam barked, clutching his hand to his throbbing head when the sound of his own voice assaulted his ears. Garnering no response from his brother, Sam turned and scanned the area before making his way onto the road. He stayed to the side off the glossy places and kept his feet. The wind bit into his exposed skin, making his nose and lungs burn and his eyes water. He pulled his hood tighter, squinting through the fabric tunnel.

He walked further, eyes scanning for help, for his absent brother. "DEEAAANNNN!" Sam called again, his voice growing hoarse. He stumbled, numb legs and feet screaming at him to stop walking. The wind shifted and the smell of wood smoke reached him. He looked up, seeing the gray plume drifting over trees around a curve. "A house. Dean's gotta be there." Sam's feet moved faster, although he still stumbled, but he finally made it around the curve, seeing a long snowy drive leading to a house sided in cedar shakes, smoke drifting from a stone faced chimney. He stopped, the driveway seeming to lengthen before his burning eyes.

Shaking his head, he began the trek down the drive, the pull of the warm glow of lights from the downstairs windows and the smell of burning wood too powerful to ignore.

Sam finally reached the bottom of the steps that led to the porch, seeing them free of snow and ice, and firewood stacked neatly beside the red painted front door. He vaguely heard music drifting from the house. He recognized the band Hinder and his heart gave an odd pang as the song stirred memories. He lifted a cold foot and stepped up onto the bottom step, his other foot coming up. Sam's boot caught on the step and sent him sprawling, crashing into the hard, cold wood of the steps. His head spun and ribs shrieked as they caught the edge of the middle step before he rolled down to the bottom in a crumpled heap. The front door opened, a laughing female voice ringing into the storm.

"You finished playing already Molly?" The Great Dane came round the corner, shaking snow off her big ears. "Molly?" The woman looked from the dog to the base of the stairs, seeing the snow covered, crumpled heap topped by an ice covered brown hood. "Oh my god. Molly, inside." She said as she stepped down the stairs and knelt at the hooded figure's side. "Come on. Can you walk?"

"C-c-cold." She stopped dead as she recognized the stammering voice. It was the sweetest sound she'd heard in a long time, and the most dreaded.

"Sam? C'mon, let's get you inside." The brown hood lifted and pained blue greens looked up at her, trying to focus and failing. The head fell forward and she caught him before he could strike the stairs again.

"No, nonono. Sam, please. You're too heavy." She struggled to pull him up the stairs, unable to move him. "Molly!" she called for her big dog. The Dane came running, her hundred and thirty pound frame eager to play. The woman rolled Sam over onto his back and the dog sniffed him eagerly, warm breath ruffling his hair. She pulled his hat down and unzipped his coat.

"Tug, Molly. C'mon girl, let's play." She begged, hoping the dog was willing to play tug of war. She moved to Sam's long legs while the dog gripped Sam's hood in her powerful jaws and let the dog win the battle as Molly pulled Sam by his jacket right through the door and into the house. Sam's prone form slid across the hardwood floor, leaving slowly melting ice across the boards. "Whoa girl, easy. Stop, girl." She said when the dog had Sam in front of the fireplace, its flames warming the room. The dog stopped, releasing Sam's hat. She sat back and whined happily. The woman removed Sam's damp coat, seeing his clothing was just as sopping. She wrestled him out of his clothing and down to his boxers, quickly covering him in the quilt she kept on the back of the couch. She tucked a pillow under his head and went for a warm washcloth, wiping cold water, snow and dried blood from Sam's wind burned face. She applied some butterfly bandages to the deepest of the cuts on his face. Finally feeling she'd done all she could do until he warmed up, she sat on one knee at his side, resting her hands on her other knee as she lowered her cheek, watching the man she thought she'd never see again.

***

Dean groaned, shoving the tree branch off his torso, his ribs screaming at him to just lay still, the lethargy wanting to swallow him whole, to take him deep under. He stood, his feet slipping before he caught himself and began walking down the icy road. He walked uphill, stumbling on numb feet. He fell hard, curling in on himself, belatedly realizing his chills were gone. He pried his eyes open, the desire to keep them closed nearly overwhelming him. He forced himself to his knees, looking around as he fought the urge to black out, a picture of Sam crumpled in the foot well of the car spurring him on.

The wind stirred the trees and Dean looked twice as the movement exposed the peak of a roof. Hope flared within him and he made it to his feet, walking towards what was hopefully help for him and his brother. He walked down a snow covered drive and saw the broken down old farmhouse. There were no lights on, or smoke from the chimney. Dean walked up on to the snow and ice covered front porch, seeing the door hanging crookedly on its frame. He pushed it aside and went in. Although the house was cold, and snow blew through cracks in boards and window panes, it was warmer than out in the storm. Dean shook snow off his jacket, hugging himself as he moved through the rooms. The furniture was gone, dust covering the floor in an undisturbed sheet save for areas where animals had moved through, small clawed feet having made prints in the grime. Dean walked into the kitchen, his heart sinking when he saw the phone jack on the wall, but no phone.

***

Sam pushed the covers off him, the heavy weight across his lower body making him sweat. His hands were rough and dry and his head throbbed. He pushed his eyes open as he heard a snuffling sound, feeling warm air ruffling his hair against his face. He started when a large white face with a long muzzle and big ears came into focus over him. "Molly." A female voice called from another room. The large dog looked up, whining happily before moving away.

Sam looked around, eyes finally focusing and his surroundings becoming clear. He was warm to the point his back and neck were sticky with sweat. He felt his hair sticking to a feverish forehead. He pushed up on his elbows, falling back as weakness assaulted him.

He felt hands on his bare back, holding him steady, long hair cascading over his shoulder as he regained his balance only to have his world knocked for a loop by a voice he recognized.

"Easy Sam."

Sam pushed away from the voice, startled. Scrambling up, he turned to the person, disbelief and sadness/anger/fear etched across his features. "Jess?"

She looked up from where she still sat, her knees tucked to her left, a hand on one. She smiled, tears in her eyes. "Yeah, Sam. It's me." She stood, smoothing her top and pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

"N-no! You're not real. You died. I watched you burn!"

"Sam…"

"No! I died that night! With you. I finally put it behind me…never forgot, god, I could never forget. But I moved on and…" Sam fell silent, his hand over his mouth before he swiped it hard up over his face and ripped it through his hair. He pushed by her, leaning against the mantle as a wave of pain swept through him, leaving him shaking and feeling oddly detached from his body. His legs melted from beneath him and Jessica rushed forward, catching him and slowing his descent to the hardwood floor. He buried his head in her shoulder, breathing the same perfume he breathed a year ago. He made a sound somewhere between a sob and a cry of joy before he wrapped his arms around her. "I loved you. I _love_ you. I miss you."

Jessica ran her hand gently over the back of his disheveled hair. "It's okay Sam. I'm right here now. I'll explain everything. For now though, your clothes are dry. Get dressed, let me change your bandages and we'll talk." She cooed in a voice so rational, so _Jess, _that Sam's mouth twitched at the memories her tone stirred.

"Wait…where's Dean?! He…we wrecked the car."

"Your brother? He was with you?" Jess asked, pulling back. Sam stood hastily and grabbed for his clothes draped over the back of a chair near the fireplace. He slid into stiff but warm jeans and grabbed his shirt, looking around for his boots.

"I gotta find him."

"Sam, it's really bad outside. You're hurt, you almost died…"

"And Dean still could!"

"You can't find him on foot. Tell me where the car is and I'll call Dad's friend who works for the Roads Department. He's gonna be the only one out, he'll find Dean."

"We need to get help, Jess. Paramedics…. Someone. I don't remember much of the wreck. I don't know how hard we hit. Dean could be…" Sam trailed off, shaking his head in denial.

"I'll make some calls. Please, Sam, sit down and tell me what happened."

Sam told her what he could remember, and by the time he was done talking and she'd made some calls, Sam had slid down to sit on the hearth, barely able to hold up his own weight. Jess returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug in her hands. She sat it down on the coffee table and reached for Sam, helping him to his feet and to the leather couch. He sat and she pushed the coffee into his hands. "The highway patrol is going out. I told them to call us just as soon as they find anything. Jasper, Dad's friend is also out along where you said. They will find him. He's strong. He'll make it. I promise."

Sam took a sip of the hot brew, just how he liked it with sugar, cream and just a little cinnamon. It seemed to stick in his throat as the question he dreaded asking pushed it's way out. "Jess…why?"

Jessica looked down at her hands and sighed. "God, I didn't want to, baby. I didn't want to leave you." She looked at him, a single tear tracing down her cheek. "The weekend you left with Dean, to find your dad… something happened. I went shopping with Becky and when I came back this strange man was in the apartment. He said he knew you, and he needed me to do something for you. With the way you left and the way he was talking…I thought something was wrong. So I listened to what he was saying and when he went into this destiny stuff and setting you along your true path… it freaked me out. I tried to get away and he…his eyes turned this weird yellow and the doors slammed. I couldn't open them. I was so scared."

"Then he said that if I didn't leave you, he would make you suffer. He said he'd take Dean from you while you watched, the way he took your mom from your dad. Then he…he showed me what he'd done. I saw you in your crib; I saw it and I couldn't let you go through that. It was awful. I know what your brother means to you, I saw it that weekend, the way you acted with him. I couldn't let you be hurt like that. He told me to take what I could carry, that he'd let me do that. I tried to pack some things, a picture of us, my diary, but I couldn't lift them. It was like they were stuck to the desk. He told me that I couldn't take anything you'd notice, that you couldn't ever suspect I was alive or he'd hurt you. The cookies and the note were my goodbye. I'm so sorry, baby. I just couldn't let you get hurt." Jess finally stopped speaking, tears dripping onto her hands as she looked back down into her lap.

Sam sniffed. "It wasn't a man. It was the thing that killed my mom, a demon." Sam cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee before he spoke again, "Do you know how you died? He pinned you to the ceiling in our bedroom, slit you open and burned you Jess. The apartment burned with you in it."

Horror streaked across Jessica's features as her eyes roamed over Sam's face. "Just like my mom. Dean got me out…again. I lost you, the demon made me see you burn, just like my dad saw my mom. Just like you watched."

"God, I'm sorry." Jess whispered. "I'm so sorry baby." Jess leaned into Sam, pulling his head down against her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tight.

"I miss you. I miss you." he murmured, the words becoming a litany that warmed her heart.

"Shh, shh. I'm right here." Jess said, ducking her head as she kissed him. He took over, breathing her in as his lips devoured hers. His fist closed gently in her hair, then tightened as the kiss deepened. He leaned Jess back over the arm of the couch, his mouth roaming down her neck. He nuzzled her collar aside and then worked his lips over her shoulder before moving back up her neck. He bit at her ear, making her shudder before he whispered in it.

"What about your parents?"

"They spend half the year in San Diego." Jess whispered in return, her fingers clenching in his shirt tail as she pulled it up and over his shoulders.

***

Dean left the house reluctantly; although ramshackle he had welcomed the relief from the biting wind, sleet and snow. He made his way back out onto the road, walking along the shoulder, just where the plows had last cleared and still wading through snow and sliding on sleet nearly up to his calves. His legs over his boots soon became freezing cold and numb, the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing the tingling flesh. He stuck his hands deeper inside his sleeves, trying to bring a little warmth and feeling to his fingers. He stumbled, but caught himself, his hand flailing out and plunging into the snow bank, ice cutting the butt of his palm. He didn't even feel the blood dripping slowly from his fingertips, congealing on his flesh. He turned a bend in the road, and walked beneath a tight canopy of tall redwood trees, sheltered from the wind and falling precipitation. He pulled down the zipper on his jacket as the shelter of the trees made him feel warmer. He walked a little further, yawning as he stumbled again. He left the shelter of the trees, his eyes blurring, and breath condensing on the air in short bursts.

Dean finally went up a short hill and the scenery opened up before him, a small house coming into sight. He saw lights on in the front windows and smoke pouring from the chimney in light gray curls. Dean made a bee line for the front porch, going up stairs that were slightly crooked but solid. He knocked on the door and it creaked open, the double barrel of a shotgun poking Dean in the chest, followed closely by an ancient looking woman in a flannel shirt and bib overalls. Dean raised his cold, bloody hands in surrender.

"Please, I need help." he said, his voice nearly gone. The woman stepped back, pulling the gun back slightly. Dean explained. "My car slid down over a bank. My brother's still inside. He's hurt."

"Phone's in the kitchen." The woman said.

Dean stumbled into the old farmhouse behind the older woman, her grip finally relaxed on the shotgun. A wave of warmth hit him in the face once the front door closed. She led him through the living area, where the smell of wood smoke and hickory wood that was stacked neatly next to the hearth invaded his nostrils, to the kitchen and through the old saloon style kitchen doors. On the wall rested an olive green rotary phone.

"Well, there it is boy. Get ya some help for ya brother." The woman said, making a 'shooing' motion with her hand.

"Thank god." Dean lunged for it, never more grateful for a small bit of technology. He spun the numbers with fingers that felt like they would shatter; listening to the _ttttttttttttttt _for 9-1-1, knowing Sam needed help…and fast. The phone rang once, twice, before a male voice finally answered. "Nine-one-one, please state your emergency."

"I'm at a farmhouse along Route 2, 'bout seven miles outside Stevens Pass. My car is down over an embankment about a mile away." Dean said, his body sliding down the wall as his dwindling spark of energy burned out. "My brother is trapped inside…head injury…hy-hypothermia…"

"Are you alright? What's your name?" The operator asked, his tone turning urgent.

"Uh…Dean…m'names Dean."

"Okay Dean, we're gonna be sending help to both you and your brother. Whose house are you at? Can you tell me…a road or a name?"

Dean looked down at his fingers, the grayish flesh that should be alarming him, merely another thing to look at. He glanced up in the direction he'd last seen the old woman and saw nothing but dust motes swirling through the air as a beam of sunlight shot through a dirty window. The phone pressed to his ear had the utterly complete sound of dead silence, the handset smudging dust and cobwebs over his flesh. It slid from his lifeless fingers, dangling from the springy cord as it bounced and clacked off the peeling wallpaper, tapping him on the shoulder as if taunting him before he slid sideways, laying against the baseboard, a tear making its way from the corner of his eye, feeling cold on icy flesh. His eyes closed as the smell of mildew and dust filled lungs that didn't want to expand again. He felt a heavy weight settle over him and didn't have the energy to fight it.

**Just one more chapter and a small Epilogue to go. Hope you'll stick with me! I will try to update by Wednesday evening.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Totally blown away by the response this is getting. Most of you by now have thought that the boys are hallucinating but you can't figure out whether they've actually found help or if they're still in/at the car. Answers are coming. I'm about to lose my computer to the repair shop, so I'll take this time to thank everyone that has reviewed, favorited, alerted and taken the time to read. I hope all your questions get answered and you enjoy the rest of the story. After this is a small epilogue that I won't make you wait for. It's at the end of this chapter. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! Enjoy the rest of this one! I'm being bugged by two more so I'll be back.**

**Also, sorry about the level of Impala abuse. Trust me, I wouldn't do this to my baby for anything!**

_**Chapter 3**_

Jasper Riley lowered the blade on his plow truck, clearing an ice covered drift before he slowed into a curve in the road leading into the foothills and into the town of Stevens Pass. Chatter from his radio always kept the burly man company on his long nights of clearing snow and ice from the road and he returned jibes with many other drivers within his twenty mile CB range, also keeping in touch with his dispatcher and necessary emergency vehicles, and his co-workers from the county roads department.

He slowed further when he saw a large redwood limb lying across his lane of the road. He lowered his blade and was going to push it off to the side. His headlights reflected off of the ice coating on the branch and he thought better of it, realizing that the heavy evergreen might spring up and catch on his truck once he knocked the ice off.

"Truck 555 to dispatch?" Jasper said over the airwaves as he keyed his mic.

"Yeah Jas?" Roger Davis said.

"I got a tree limb down on the road. I'm gonna clear it by hand."

"Alright." Jasper climbed down out of his truck, sliding heavy gloves over his large hands. He walked around the front of the truck, the headlights causing his shadow to fall over the redwood limb. He leaned down and gripped the broken end of the six inch thick coniferous bough lifting it slightly. He looked down and cursed, seeing a man pinned beneath the limb. Jasper pulled off his glove and tucked warm fingers to icy flesh at his throat.

"Hey? Buddy?" The trucker called, rolling the man over gently. Dry, split, bluish lips were slightly parted, his face lax and waxen. "Christ. Just a kid. Come on kid, you be alive. C'mon kid."

A voice forced Dean to pull in another shallow breath and open his eyes, seeing a smoky, translucent figure swirling through the dust and moving closer to him. He watched, detached, as it knelt beside him, and reached out. "Easy buddy. I'm here to help. Gonna get you help." Dean felt the floor beneath his cheek grow impossibly cold and he felt a heavy weight shift off his torso, the brush of something soft but prickly, something barely felt besides the cold, raked over him and thrown aside. A minute later something warm and heavy was laid over him, wrapped beneath and around his head, chest and arms, sheltering him from the snow and ice. A warm hand poked inside the fabric and rested against his neck. "Just hang on. Help's comin'."

"Mm." Dean tried, failing to speak.

"Easy, easy. I'm gonna get you outta the snow and into the truck. Anything broken?" The man looming over him said, leaning closer when Dean's mouth moved again.

"Nnn…carrrbrrr…"

"Your car buried? We'll take care'a you then someone will tow your car out." He hauled Dean up, wrapping the flannel blanket closer around him and began the trek with him back to the cab of the tri-axle, diesel engine rumbling warmly. He opened the passenger door and spoke to Dean, "C'mon buddy. Need ya to haul yourself up. Get in and get warm."

Dean groaned, his voice nearly gone as he let the driver boost him up into the cab. Dean sagged into the seat, flopping over towards the gear shift. The heater was turned to high and the vents all directed at him, warm air making his cold face burn. A heavy blanket was tucked tightly around him and Dean felt himself sag unconsciously against the driver. The older, burly man comforted him. "I called ya an ambulance."

"Brother…m'brother…car." He whispered as the driver leaned over to sit him upright.

"Brother?!" The plow truck driver straightened, picking up the radio and slamming a thumb on the mic. "We need the Grader and a tow truck out here, now! 'Nother ambulance too. This kid just said he's got a brother still trapped in the car!"

"Alright Jasper. I'm just over a half mile out." Nick Rawlings said, static over the microphone making the big man's voice more gruff than usual.

"That car o' his, all I can see is tail lights and half the back glass. I can't even tell if the boy's really in there."

"Can't take any chances, an' can't wait. I'm on my way out." Miranda Davis answered over the CB. She owned the large fleet of tow trucks that worked Stevens Pass and the surrounding areas and his dispatcher's wife.

"Hey kid." Jasper said, feeling Dean's neck for a pulse. Dean's eyes fluttered but didn't open. "We're gonna find your brother and get ya both outta here. I'm gonna go and start diggin' my way to your brother, ya just get warm, an' hang on for him." Jasper climbed out of the truck, reaching for his shovel that was stowed in its hook on the side of the bed. He made his way down over the embankment to where he could see one corner of the black car. Jasper slid down the slippery drift and stopped himself, finding the edge of the car with his heavily gloved hand. He pushed snow and ice from the back window of the car, frost still clinging too tightly to let him see into the dark interior. Jasper sunk the metal shovel as deep as he could into the hard packed snow in the area he believed the passenger door to be. He tossed the scoop away and plunged the shovel in again, hearing the blade scrape off metal. He raked snow away, exposing the door pillar. He shifted the shovel several inches to his left and dug in again, shovel full after shovel full clearing away before he finally found himself looking at spider webbed bloody glass.

"Damn." He cried aloud, his ears finally picking up the sounds of the heavy equipment headed his way. He dropped the shovel and clawed his way back over the bank just in time to see Nick stop the big Grader. He ran to the piece of equipment and climbed up to speak to the driver.

"Need you to clear the shoulder down to the guardrail. The kid is in the car. I can't dig it all out though and it looks like there's two feet of snow and ice coating it. It's layin' against a hundred year old tree too, nearly on its nose. We're gonna have t' pull it out to get to the boy's brother. Miranda pulled up in her big tow truck and sirens blared in the distance.

"What d'we got?" She asked Jasper.

"The older boy is in the plow, the other kid is in the car. I can see him but I can't tell if he's alive. We're gonna have to tow the car up onto the shoulder to get to him. Nick's gonna clear the shoulder and we'll hook up the tow rig."

The Grader made short work of the snow piled along the shoulder and he took the guardrail out with the wide blade, bending metal and snapping wooden supports. He moved aside and Miranda backed her truck into the space, lowering her heavy duty tow rigging as Jasper walked down behind the bumper of the car and used his shovel to clear snow from beneath the axle, where he wrapped the cable around it.

She reeled in the excess and the cable and car both groaned as she winched the big black machine up on to the shoulder. Two ambulances pulled in and stopped, EMT's scrambling to help. Two had the door open and Sam on a gurney, tucking warm blankets around him. Two more eased Dean from the cab of the big plow and helped him to the ambulance, quickly stabilizing the two before heading for the hospital.

***

Sam woke, bolting upright on the bed as Jessica came through the door and stopped. She circled the bed and sat down beside him, putting the two mugs of steaming coffee down on the bedside table. "Baby?" Sam didn't hear her, his chest heaving as his eyes roamed wildly around the room. Jessica turned to him and gripped his bare shoulders. "Sam?!" She questioned. "You're freezing!" She said as she felt the chill of his flesh seep into her fingertips and raise gooseflesh on her skin.

Sam shuddered and gasped for breath, "J-jess…somethin's wr-wrong." He said, his hand rubbing hard over his chest. "I can't b-breathe." Jessica leaned Sam forward, laying his clammy forehead against her shoulder. She worked her hands down Sam's backbone and on both sides, soothing him however she could. Sam's breathing finally calmed and she let him sit up straight, pulling the quilt tight around him.

"What happened?"

"I dunno. I've been havin' these feelings…more like flashes. Pain, cold…God I'm so cold." Sam gripped the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Jessica jumped when Sam's neck arched and he threw his head back.

"Gaahhrr…"

Jess helped Sam to lie down, easing him back against the pillow that rested against the headboard. Sam's eyes scrunched shut, Jess' hand smoothing over the lines of pain that marred his features. "What is it, baby?"

"My head. It hurts." Sam said, trying to breathe through the pain, curling in on himself as he writhed.

"Shh, shh. Just relax. It'll be okay Sammy." Jess said, her voice oddly gruff, sounding foreign to Sam's ears. "Just breathe and relax Sammy." His head throbbed violently, his vision fading to white as Sam finally recognized the voice drowning out Jessica's. _Dean. _

Sam's vision stopped swimming, clearing but remaining white. He finally focused on the hum of a soothing voice and the fact that the white above him was divided into equal rectangular shapes of ceiling tiles. He felt air being pushed into his lungs mechanically and it forced him to inhale. "That's it. You're alright."

His eyes drifted from the white of the ceiling to the blurry face to his left. Dean's features finally came into focus, the dark circles under his bright emerald eyes, the slight dryness that was the healing windburn on his cheeks. Scabs ran in a line over the shallow cut on his forehead and bruising darkened the stubble on his chin. Sam's hand fluttered in Dean's direction and the older hunter clasped his little brother's wrist, squeezing reassuringly. Sam took another breath, aided by the ventilator, and his eyes slipped closed, relaxing into slumber.

"He's gonna be okay, Son." Bobby said, quietly, his hand on Dean's shoulder over his robe.

"Yeah. I know he is." Dean said, his arm tightening around his still sore ribs.

"C'mon kid. Time t'git you outta that chair." Bobby gripped Dean gently under the arm and helped him stand, easing him back to the bed. "Get some sleep. I'll see ya in the mornin' after I make arrangements for that car o'yours." Dean nodded and turned his head in the direction of the other bed before his own eyes closed. Bobby listened silently until Dean's breathing evened out and he showed no signs of discomfort. Bobby went to the other bed and brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead before whispering to the youngest Winchester.

"I am glad you're gonna be alright. Don' think either one of us could handle losin' ya, Sammy."

***

Dean woke up the next morning, his eyes automatically scanning his surroundings and falling on his brother's form, the white coated doctor leaning over him.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. The doctor jumped slightly before turning.

"We took him off the ventilator this morning. He's still just slightly feverish but that's to be expected with what he's been through. It's often the body's way of dealing, but we'll still be monitoring him closely."

"Where was I when you took him off the vent?" Dean asked, stretching slightly to mask his alarm.

The doctor smiled. "Snoring. Everything went completely smoothly. No complications and he went right back to sleep. We have him elevated to ease his breathing." The doctor leaned over Dean and touched his ribs, checking the fractures. Dean disguised a wince, but the doctor saw anyway.

"If all continues to go well we should be releasing you in the next couple days, Sam by early next week. You're both very lucky boys. Rest up. I'll be around later to check on him." The doctor said as he left the room.

Dean eased from the bed and moved to the chair he'd used yesterday. Sam's breathing was regular and deep and Dean allowed himself to be comforted by the quiet sounds. He leaned back in the chair and rested his eyes.

***

"Dean?" Sam queried as his eyes opened, his voice rough from the ventilator. Dean jumped awake and leaned forward, disguising his slight grimace of pain.

"Hey dude. Don't talk and don't move. Ya just came off a vent an' ya had surgery on your shoulder. Detached tendon."

"Where's Jess?" Sam questioned in a whisper, his eyes roaming the room hopefully.

"Jess? Sammy… you know she's gone."

"No. She's not. I was at her parent's house. She was there. The demon faked her death to push me." Sam denied.

"Sam, I wrecked the car. You were trapped inside. I never made it for help. We almost died. You were in the car until we were helped by the roads crew and a tow truck driver.

"No Dean! I saw her, I talked to her. Hell, we made love!" Sam cried, his voice giving out as he began coughing.

Dean gave Sam a sip of water, easing him back to the bed as he breathed, his eyes clenched tightly shut. "Easy Sam. Look, we'll have Bobby check it out. If she's there, he'll bring her here for you."

"What am I volunteerin' for?" The gruff hunter said as he walked through the hospital room door, smiling as he saw Sam awake. His smile faded quickly as he felt the tension between the brothers.

"Need ya to check somethin' out for us Bobby." Dean said.

Sam told Bobby what he could remember about his time with Jess. The older hunter left, but not before admonishing Dean to get back into bed and rest after Sam had exhausted himself and his voice.

***

A couple hours later Dean woke to Bobby shaking his shoulder. "Anything?" Dean asked, stretching gingerly as he sat up straighter against the pillows.

"Ain't nobody been in that house since last year. Calendar in the kitchen was on November. 'Nough dust to give a desert a run fer it's money." Bobby answered quietly.

Dean looked over at his still sleeping brother. "Damnit. He's gonna feel like he lost her all over again. Why the hell can't we catch a break Bobby?"

"Kid, I wish I knew."

_**Epilogue**_

Dean pulled Bobby's truck into the driveway that Sam motioned to. His eyes roamed over the lane that led through neglected shrubbery and up to a porch that sported peeling white paint and a thin layer of ice. Dean watched through the windshield, his peripheral vision letting him see Sam sigh before he slid out of the truck, adjusting the sling on his right arm as he walked carefully through packed snow to the porch. Sam looked up at the house, swallowing hard as he stood at the base of the stairs that led to the front door.

Dean got out of the truck and quietly walked up behind Sam, gripping him on the back of the neck, fingertips just touching skin above the strap of the sling.

"This place…" Sam said quietly, shoulder's sagging, "it wasn't like this. It was beautiful. Lights in all the windows." Sam strode forward, walking up the groaning stairs and through a door that loudly protested being opened. Dean followed, watching his brother walk into the den, seeing furniture shrouded in dust laden sheets and plastic. Dean recognized Bobby's boot prints in the dust, the only disturbance in the film. Cob webs hung in a curtain over the hearth. "The fireplace…it was warm when I was so cold. And she was here. Jess. She was warm, happy."

Sam moved off again and Dean let him lead the way. He made his way up the stairs, running a finger over the railing he remembered kissing Jessica as she leaned against it. His heart broke as his finger moved dust aside to reveal the beautiful golden oak wood grain beneath the layer of grime. He topped the stairs and turned down the hall as if he truly knew his way around the house. He walked through a door and into a bedroom with an antique sleigh bed protected with a large sheet of grit caked plastic. "She warmed me up, brought me back. We…" Sam sighed. "God Dean, it was so easy to say I'd stay. It was so easy. I missed her so much, then she was just…there. She asked and I stayed. I just stayed. I knew you were out there. Somewhere. And I just…"

"Sam…"

"No Dean. You could've died. I can't…"

Dean spun Sam, albeit gently, and gripped his shoulders, Sam's eyes drifting to rest somewhere over Dean's shoulder. "Sammy, we were both out there. We both went through a lot of crap over the last little while. It sucked. Believe me. It freakin' sucked. If I'd have been here, I'd have felt exactly the same. Look at me. Sammy, look at me." Sam met his brother's eyes.

"I'm sorry. So damn sorry. I know it felt real. I saw some crap that I can't explain, and it felt real, but it was nothing like what you went through. I'm sorry for that."

"I'm sorry Dean." Sam said.

"For what?"

"The night we wrecked, your birthday. Hers was the same day."

"I didn't know that." Dean said quietly.

"And she was on my mind. I guess… I just hoped… God Dean, I miss her." Sam turned from his brother and began walking back to the truck. Dean moved to catch up.

"Listen to me… We will find the sonuvabitch that killed her. We will kill that bastard. I swear Sammy." Dean bumped shoulders with his brother as he fell in beside him. "Let's get outta here. Maybe I'll let ya help rebuild my baby." Sam looked at his brother, agape.

"Well… maybe I'll let you hand me the tools."

"Jerk." Sam huffed a short laugh.

"Tool boy."

"Hey Dean?" Sam said, opening the door of the truck left handed.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

**A/N: Again, Thanks so much for all the support on this one, and I really hope you've enjoyed the read. Don't forget to let me know. It might be after I get my computer back but I will take time to thank everyone who reviews. Your thoughts mean so much!**


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